and the mome raths outgrabe

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

With the decision made and Danta's enjoyment of Astaroth's squirming very much dampened, the Maverick glances over his shoulder and up into the sky as he begins to lead them away from The Spire. A shame, really - he'd been looking forward to poking his nose around there before the day was done. On the other hand, he's decided he much prefers cocky, devil-may-care Asta to the man heeling next to him, and if putting distance between them and The Spire brings the former back, all the more reason to move quickly.

Having to school his hand more than once against guiding the small of the other man's back to get him to hurry, Danta instead listens as the puzzle starts to slowly come together. "I see," he murmurs. "And here I thought it was the rampant cannibalism." Haha, jokes, right?

"Did it happen in The Climb?" he wonders, not having to be so obvious as to get Asta to say it out loud, that his scars were from talons.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

In a sense, it was the cannibalism too that had actually brought him to the doorstep first, the reason everything had gone into motion the way that it had. It’s a thought that keeps him silent as they put more distance between the sounds of those avians and his memories. He does seem to come back into himself a little, fraction by fraction, but it’s like chipping away at the ice sculpture that Asta has just become.

“I was sloppy back then.” His fingertips curl into the jacket and he stares hard on the path they’re taking. “Got caught. Got chained in Angel’s End.” He jaw snaps shut with an audible click as if he’s debating continuing. But Danta had been kind enough to share the jacket, to not poke fun at it aside from the superficial jokes.

He exhales a sound and runs a hand through his hair again, pushing it back and trying to regain more semblance of himself. “Left there for days, until I was found and brought to Her.” Clinging to deaths doorstep, practically.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

I would argue that you're sloppy now, Danta might have quipped were it not for the circumstances. Besides, it's not necesarily true either, and where's the fun in snark when there's not a little honesty in it? "Caught by who?" he wonders with a furrow of his brows; Ancients were a lot of things, and they were hardly a harmonious bunch, but an out-and-out lynching didn't seem their vibe, even back then.

Still, left there for days says more than any other details need to, and Danta shoves his hands deeply into his pockets. "The crows got you pretty bad, huh," he says, remembering the bone deep scars raking and criss-crossing across Astaroth's pale skin. Honestly, it's not something he's ever wondered about the other man, and even the rumour mill had been absent of these little tidbits.

"All's well that ends well though, I suppose," he adds, gesturing at Asta as if to say he'd turned out alright once Dygra had finished with him.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Well, it certainly was not the Ancients, who were more than content to allow him to indulge in such affairs. But no, this was when he’d first started to spread out, breaking away from his tribe way back when, before he knew just how to work the system. Something he learned once he had become one with the Climb. “The town doesn’t exist anymore, but a group of them didn’t take kindly to my preferences.” He’s starting to sound a bit more like himself as they walk, but he still seems hyper fixated on the path.

“Unfortunately.” He admits with the wrinkling of his nose, the shifting of his posture to straighten out the further they get away from the bullshit that had spurred this. The jacket shifts, slipping more around his shoulders to cover much of his back, the scars on his chest exposed. “Zac and Rayla were the ones that brought me in.” And it explains why it was kept such a secret, the two of them impossible to break yet also such story tellers that it’s part of how Asta had gotten his repayment work after.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Very few do," Danta says with a crooked smile and a roll of his shoulders. "That much hasn't changed. Closed-minded, if you ask me." It's not as though Danta won't sate his hunger on the best thing given the chance, it's just that it's sort of frowned upon when you're meant to lead a region. Apparently.

Asta remains focused on the path ahead, but Danta is still the one directing them, it feels, because he's looping back the way he came until they reach one of the bone bridges that will take them back towards the Glade and its leafy canopies. "Sorry to hear it." The tone is necessarily careless, but the words are nonetheless sincere. As for Zac and Rayla, now it's Danta's turn to wrinkle his nose a little and shrink in on himself.

"Never knew them much," he admits. "Didn't have the status to fit in with that sort of crowd." As Astaroth would very well know.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

“Perhaps I can save you some next time.” A thank you, given how nice of a gesture it was for Danta to offer his jacket after everything, to guide him back when he’d gotten completely out of sorts. It’s a strange dance between them, kindness and brashness, and with the understanding of the Maverick’s interaction back when the Climb had been their home and stomping ground, well, things were starting to make a lot of sense.

Memories were starting to make a lot of sense.

Especially as he picks up on Danta’s stiffness and Asta’s silent for a moment as he considers his words. “You wouldn’t have wanted to fit in with them.” He admits, too tired to truly try and hide the details. “They, mm… chose to pit me against you.” He shrugs a shoulder, the jacket slipping before he readjusts it.

It’s why he’d always been such an asshole to Danta — no real reason other than the comfort of such rules from those that had rescued him, and Danta taking the brunt of anger for the one above him.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"You mean like a doggy bag?" Danta can't keep the dry mirth from his tone or the way his lips twist into a smirk; listen, when the other man's shift is a fyrhund it's difficult not to make such easy jokes. "I wouldn't say no, though I do prefer my food as fresh as I can get it." And he's starting to wish he'd made more of the deer back at The Spire, honestly, but there will be other chances. There always are for him, these days.

Wrinkling his nose as the history of their longstanding hostility begins to fall into place, Danta steps onto the bridge and turns up the collar of his shirt against the cold breeze off the water. "That makes sense. Probably hoped you'd kill me, or at least maim me enough to really piss Morax off." And it didn't take much to royally piss her off, Danta knows that much intimately.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He’s coming back into himself enough that a rough chuckle slips from his lips and he nods with a small amount of fondness over the joke. “Perhaps if someone’s done something egregious I shall invite you?” Make a game of it, provided there was no gore crow to be seen.

As for the rest of it and their longstanding history, Asta exhales a sigh and his nose wrinkles. “The whole purpose of what I did was to piss Morax off.” He says with a sigh. He was forced to be better, cockier, shittier than Danta despite Danta having more rights to being the best between them.

It’s a thought that sparks more of his loose lips as he reaches up to tuck a stray black lock of hair back behind his ear again. “She was a fucking bitch.” He growls out. “Especially to you.”

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Ooh, do you promise?" Danta tries not to sound as keen as he is, the Maverick having been on his very best behaviour for some time now. (And that really is saying something, given how some people in Caido would say he's acted). "Count me in." Gore crows notwithstanding, and hopefully out of the public eye.

Danta doesn't realise he's started to mimic Asta in the way his eyes are pinned on the path ahead until it's too late, and it's with a scowl - both at his history and at the realisation - that he drags his eyes up to watch the way ahead. "You don't know the half of it," he mutters, half under his breath, and forces a shudder as if to wipe her name off his skin.

"You know, I didn't leave the Climb for seasons after I woke up. I kept waiting to see her around. I don't know what happened to them - they could be statues even now."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Dantalion should consider himself already counted in, evident by the twist of Astaroth’s lips and the bob of his head as they continue to walk and talk, the chill of the breeze off the water causing the Ancient to draw the Maverick’s jacket tighter around his shoulders.

At least the frustration over Morax and Danta’s history fuels him with enough warmth to stoke the fire within him as he tears his gaze from the path to glance sidelong at the Maverick, listening to the explanation that’s admittedly, really fucking sad.

He steps forward, utilizing his longer legs to get into Danta’s space, to stop him in his tracks and force the shorter Ancient’s attention onto him. “Let's leave them, shall we? It’s about time we took the reins.” Their decisions, their own choices, consequences be damned (if there were even a chance they could do anything if they did wake up). “You’ve done quite a marvelous job here without their influence.” The sincerity comes at the tone of his sharp smile and tongue, thirsty yet again for blood, but from a different reason.

A giant middle finger to the statues possibly stuck in the Climb.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

Forced into a half-stop as Asta is suddenly very much in his space, Danta at least manages not to walk headlong into the other man's chest, an eyebrow raised up at him in bemusement. Expecting a joke at best and physical punishment at worst (it wouldn't surprise him even now), the Maverick is rendered speechless when, instead, Astaroth offers camaraderie. He swallows hard, forcing in a breath of cold air, and gives a stiff nod.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," he says, stepping back a fraction to offer his hand out to the other man - as equals, for the first time, instead of whatever they had become to each other as a result of The Climb and her politics. "And I appreciate you saying so. Shall we get a move on and head back to my marvellous job?" The Dusklight, obviously. "It's quite cold out here so close to Deepfrost, and I seem to have loaned away my coat."

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He focuses on the Maverick as his words rake across him, watching in real time as Dantalion grows speechless, something he’d never quite expected to see from the blonde Ancient. And yet, here they were, perhaps a mutual understanding of what had occurred in the Climb back then and how perhaps it has no hold on what they do now.

No, now, Dantalion rules a region and Astaroth is his attack dog. Perhaps one of the reasons Morax had wanted to keep them separate, had held a hand in both Asta’s keepers pocket to keep them pinned against one another. It’s hard to say.

He does step back, though, tightening the jacket a fraction as they start to walk again, a small snort leaving him as civilization comes toward them and Asta’s panic and anxiety eases with each and every passing step. “You'll get it back. It's a bit small for my tastes.” He lightly jests, inspecting the sleeve that seems to waft in the wind (he hasn’t put it on, imagining he was more likely to break it or look like an overstuffed sausage within the confines of Danta’s jacket).

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

electing strange perfections
in any stranger I choose

"Everything is a bit small for your tastes," Danta claps back with a playful scrunch of his nose. He's hardly a short man, after all - he can't help it if Asta has the height and frame of a spider. (Not that Danta is much different). "Luckily, we've got some decent tailors in the Grounds these days." All the better to alter any and all of the taller man's clothes.

Still, for now he's content to keep walking and allowing the other man to loan his coat, though as a cart rumbles past Danta absolutely hails it down. It's a ways to go before they're anywhere near the Inner Quarter again, after all. Hefting himself up to sit comfortably on the back of the cart, he lets a small smile curl across his lips. "Tell me," he says conversationally, "How does one get a taste for people when they aren't born an Ancient?"

It's not as though Accepted and their like have bloodlust.

Dantalion

you knew who I was
with every step that I ran to you

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He isn’t wrong. He was built quite tall with the muscle of someone forced to lug his weight around. While it still made him spindly, it makes him still too big to quite fit into the jacket that he’s borrowing – so instead, he’s content to wear it like a cape. “I’ve already had to visit one of them.” An adjustment made to the very same shirt that needed to be cleaned from their last adventure, of getting rid of the Torchline pirates sailors.

In agreement, though, and more than content to sit upon the cart beside the other Ancient, he watches the road move beneath them as the Maverick’s question reaches him and he hums a little, trying to figure out where to begin. “I was born into a tribe of other, mm, cannibals.” It’s not the word he prefers to use – feeling as though it comes off too harsh and barbaric for how much he tries to appear the opposite. “It was normal. Until I explored further than the boundaries of my upbringing and delved into civilizations.” He seems a little gone, like his mind is elsewhere trying to recall those long forgotten memories.

“Then I learned quickly it wasn’t acceptable behavior.” For some, that is. And his head tilts over toward Danta with a ghost of that sharp smile lingering there. “You, however, have always had the inclination of the bloodlust I assume?” Danta had been born Ancient, from what Asta recalls, though it had never quite come from the Maverick’s own lips. And with this turning of a page between them, perhaps setting records straight is worth it to start off on new feet.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///